Author's Note: I got back earlier than I thought I would this weekend. And guess what I did instead of unpack? ;-)

And here's the smut… Also, some angst.

Now Rated 'M'

WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER


The nightmares had only gotten worse. He had thought, had hoped that they would stop, or at the least, fade, lose their edge. But like bad portents in Greek epics, they'd only intensified, making him feel like a tragic hero who would never know peace, whose fate was to walk a terrible path. The more joy he allowed himself to experience during the day, the more intense the nightmares that plagued him by night. And the worst part was that he was haunted by the nightmare, the one that was no mere frightening dream, but a twisted memory. It was a horror that cut into his heart and soul and left him hurting, shaken and terrified in a way he'd never been in all of his waking hours. Because G Callen had something to lose now.

In all the years he'd known Sam Hanna, he'd finally, truly understood the man's motives, his worst fears. Callen had seen them before, had been sympathetic to his partner's concerns, for the family the big man loved. But he hadn't known what it was like until Callen himself had the woman he loved living in his home, a small, fragile daughter whom had stolen the entirety of his reason for being. The world had always been a cold, cruel place to G Callen, but now not only did it suddenly hold a warmth he'd never expected to encounter, but also possessed terrors beyond anything he'd ever faced. The thought of Nell or Amelia coming to harm sat at the back of his mind always. But that alone would not plague him to such a severe extent. He could accept the worry as a simple part of his new responsibilities, a small price to pay for the love that now sustained him.

The nightmares, however, were a torture he could do without. This time, he'd woken covered in a cold sweat, barely stifling a shout that would've undoubtedly woken Nell and the 5 week old baby girl sleeping down the hall. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. But rather than getting up and sneaking quietly from the bedroom so as not to disturb the (thankfully) soundly sleeping Nell, he only sat there, putting his face in his hands. The terror of the nightmare was more than just a lingering fear. It was an anxiety tight in his lungs, making every breath a laborious task.

What the hell was he going to do?

Callen felt the bed shift and sighed, simultaneously remorseful and grateful. She was awake. And he felt guilty that he was glad she wasn't getting her well-earned rest. Her anxiety had finally seemed to calm, and he only had to ask her for permission to tend to Amelia when they both woke in anticipation of their daughter's call, and she would mumble something, roll over and return to dreamland. Playing submissive to Nell in the infant's care was a small price to pay for her peace of mind. He had absolutely loathed seeing her under such strain, the dark circles under her eyes, the dull edge her energetic personality had acquired. Once or twice, he had even questioned whether Amelia was worth watching Nell's deterioration, blamed himself for getting her pregnant and transforming her life into such a hardship. But then he only had to look at the sweet, innocent face of their baby girl, see the happiness that radiated off from Nell as she nursed her daughter. It was all worth it.

Besides, she was recovering much better now. And would continue to do so, if he could stop inadvertently waking her when his nightmares came. If he could just find a way- His skin tingled along his lower ribs, as cold fingers traced a line around his sides and up over his chest. Warm, firm breasts pressed into his back as Nell wrapped her arms about him and leaned in, placing a kiss on the nape of his neck before her sharp little chin settled on his shoulder.

"Nightmares?" Her voice was soft and gentle, concerned but not demanding. What had he ever done to deserve her?

"Yeah," he said. Her lips were soft as they continued to kiss the skin of his neck and shoulder in light, fleeting touches... too fleeting. Despite the heat of her body against his back, her small, delicate hands, cool and comforting, pressed flat against his chest, her presence felt ethereal to his unsettled state of mind. He wanted to know she was there, real and solid, to be reassured that this was not just a happy dream and the nightmare the reality.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked.

No. He didn't. He only wanted to rid himself of the awful feeling twisting his insides into a knot, not explore and relive the details of the... well, he supposed it was a trauma.

"Not yet," he said, turning to face her, breaking her hold on him to gather her up in his own embrace. The warm weight of her in his arms released some of the tension of the knot in his chest, but did not untangle it entirely. The anxiety hadn't waned as much as transformed into a desperate ache. He needed Nell, to feel the reality and vibrancy of her. So he caressed her cheek, letting his hand slide down over her throat to feel the beating of her heart in the carotid artery just under the pale, vulnerable skin. Her pulse thumped beneath his palm, strong and steady, and soothing. But it still wasn't enough. The suffering part of his soul remained unappeased and clung to the pain and anxiety his nightmare had pulled from the depths of his subconscious. Only Nell would be able to pacify the ugly fear that had sunk its claws into his heart. Only the embrace that she alone in the world could bestow would comfort him now.

"I need you," he said, pulling her tighter to him, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. The scent of her was absolutely intoxicating to him now that he'd become accustomed to the new aspects of her aroma. In addition to the subtly sweet smell of sugar cookies that seemed to perpetually linger about her was her new mother scent, composed of that indescribable perfume of 'new baby' along with the tang of spit up and slightly soured breast milk.

She hugged him tight to her, speaking in soothing tones that were familiar, in that he heard them daily being used to ease an upset infant. Yet, she was not treating him like a child, with mindless placations, for he knew it was her response to finding someone she loved in pain, her attempt to ease that suffering when she could offer no physical appeasement.

"You have me," she said. "Always."

He knew it was true, even though he often found it hard to believe that Nell Jones was his, that she loved him, perhaps even as much as he loved her. But even the happy thought that he was no longer alone in the world was not enough to assuage his pain. He felt the need for her continue to rise in him, the need to know physically the words she whispered into his ear. But he didn't know how to tell her, how to ask her. He, who never before had been timid in showing Nell his physical desire for her, could not find a way to request what he wanted, needed from her.

"Nell, I-"

She silenced him with a kiss, her small -and thankfully now warmer- hand trailing down between their bodies and into his boxer-briefs to grasp the hardening length of him.

"It's okay," she said softly while she stroked him gently. "I know."

He kissed her greedily as they fell back onto the bed together, and he could honestly say he'd never needed her so badly before. She was the only thing that could drive the nightmare away. He'd tried to outrun it, literally, but he'd never escaped it. He'd tried to face it down in the dark solitude of a rented hotel room and a bottle of whiskey, but it had only slithered away into hiding to reemerge again. But Nell... she was his joy, the purest light he'd ever known. And she could banish it with her touch, with the sweet embrace of her. But-

"We agreed to wait," he said, breathless when he pulled away from her, looking down on the woman lying beneath him, her big eyes bright even in the dark of their bedroom.

"I'm healed, G," she said. "My appointment's in a few days, anyway."

Six weeks was what the doctor had recommended to wait before engaging in sexual intercourse, until Nell had her post-partum examination to be sure she was completely healed from giving birth, the minor tearing she'd sustained. It really wasn't that long to wait. Especially when they'd still been able to spend long hours kissing and cuddling, touching each other, his hands exploring the other pleasure centers of her body, her hands and mouth all over his flesh. It had been exhilarating and satisfying. But it just wasn't the same as being with her wholly, as close as he could physically get to her, inside of her. It's what he needed now. But not at the expense of harming her.

"We can wait, then," he said with an inward groan. He wasn't sure he could. God, how he needed her. There was a pressure in him, seeded by the anxiety of his nightmares, and it could either be transformed and released in Nell's affectionate embrace, or he'd have to go out into the night and try to banish it on his own. And he didn't want to leave her right now. He wanted her to be the answer, to be his comfort and relief.

"No," she said. "I know my body. I know I'm fine. And I want to do this." For you. She didn't say it. But she didn't have to.

What had he ever done to deserve her? Nothing good enough in this lifetime. He must have been a saint the last time around.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Help me out of these," she said, squirming as she lifted her gorgeous bottom and pushed the dark panties off her hip bones. He took hold of the waistband and slid the low-cut cotton bikini underwear down her legs, tossing them on the floor before he leaned in for another kiss.

She removed her tongue from his mouth, pushing him away slightly to say "condom", thankfully before they got too involved to remember the step they hadn't needed to take in quite a while. Another pregnancy was the last thing she needed from him when her womb had only been fetus-free for a little over five weeks.

"You'll tell me to stop if I'm hurting you?" he asked, his hips raised over hers, his hard, aching cock eager to plunge into the inviting warmth of her body.

"Yes," she said, sounding a bit exasperated with him, with the hesitation that was a battle for him to employ. She lifted her hips slightly, taking just the tip of him into her, the pressure and heat of her threatening to overwhelm any concern for her he had, to unleash the raging desire to take her.

He fought down the urge to penetrate her quick and rough, just as he'd fought down the anxiety of the nightmares over the past months, instead focusing on the pleasure of feeling her once again as he slowly buried himself inside of her.

Nell. Nell. Nell. Oh, god. Nell.

Her breathing was heavy, but didn't sound strained with pain, as he settled his hips between her thighs. He closed his eyes and focused on the familiar, snug, almost uncomfortably snug, feel of her. Warm. Soft yet taut. Beautiful.

Callen wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, his erection hard and hot and buried to the hilt in Nell Jones, their bodies humming with potential energy and anticipatory delight.

"Do I feel different?" she finally asked in a hushed voice edged with curiosity and self-consciousness.

"Mm? I don't know..." Did she? He withdrew completely from her and took another contemplative turn at penetrating her, sliding slowly into her, pushing harder as he met the resistance of her small body's firm yet elastic flesh, until he was enveloped fully in the tight clutch of her once more. The anxiety that was an impossible knot inside his chest was not unraveling, but dissolving entirely.

"Do you feel different?" he asked, caressing her cheek in the palm of his hand as he stared into her eyes in the dark. Generally, he tended to prefer making love to Nell with the lights on, to see the details of her body and face. But at this moment, the quiet of the bedroom lit only with moonlight streaming through the window was perfect. He wasn't concerned with the visual details of her as much as her soothing presence, the feel of her, the warmth of her affectionate soul. And he wondered at how she'd changed, yet remained the same.

"Yes. And no," she said quietly. "I am different. But I'm still me."

And that was precisely the truth of it. She had changed. But she was still Nell.

"You're my Nell," he said. "Always."

And then he kissed her. And made love to her until the darkness of the nightmare that had awoken him, haunted him with terrors beyond anything he'd faced before, faded away, and only the glorious bliss that was Nell Jones remained.


A/N: Poor, abused, traumatized Callen. The guy just can't be happy…(But he's got Nell and Amelia, so he's on his way...maybe.)